


A Not Quite Gift of the Magi

by lttlelostzombi



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alcohol, Canada, Christmas, Christmas on the Citadel, Destroy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, M/M, Mass Effect Holiday Cheer, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2993192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lttlelostzombi/pseuds/lttlelostzombi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Shepard gets drunk at a bar and it's up to a one James Vega to talk some sense into his once commanding officer. Cue an awkward "Gifts of the Magi"-esque Christmas between the first human Spectres.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>This is a Mass Effect Holiday Cheer tumblr gift for Lola99!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Not Quite Gift of the Magi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lola99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola99/gifts).



> This was my first time doing a gift-prompt, and I struggled through so many incarnations before landing on this! Only had myself to beta, so all mistakes are mine!

Christmas on the Citadel always felt sterile, despite the humans’ attempts at festivities. 

“It’s only the greatest surviving human tradition,” he complained to the bartender. The turian didn’t even bother to look at him as he thummed a distracted response, simply kept pouring the blue liquid into the thin glass. Shepard wasn’t deterred, turning his body to talk to the batarian seated two stools down. “Eggnog! You’d like it, I _promise_ ," he was nearly leaning, falling into the empty space as if the closeness would further his argument. 

His hand reached out to land on the alien’s shoulder, only to slip and slide as the disgruntled man shifted away from the grasp. Shepard groaned and let himself stay sprawled over the two seats. “Eggnog,” could be heard muttered against the leather-like material of the cushion, one arm folded against his cheek as the other hung limply. The batarian's eyes glanced, stared, at the human before flickering to the same bartender who merely shrugged, still resolutely focused on his job, and with no explanation forthcoming the man went back to his own drink, glad to ignore the human; or would have been had Shepard not reached out, hand grasping at his leg, and the severe breach of personal space was so surprising the alien wasn't even able to react, stilled into shock. 

"Wassail. Eggnog and wassail. Never much liked wassail myself..." or those were the words Shepard _meant_ to say; what came out was more like, " _Wasailmail. Eggnog and wassahmahlig_ ," before diverging into muttering that the alien's translators couldn't pick up. It didn't help that he was nearly nuzzling the leather of the seat, cheek eventually turning to stick to the material. 

The open bar had been ignoring the awkward interaction, happy to drown out their lives in the bottles in front of them instead; at least until the second physical contact was made, the room going almost completely silent as they watched. It was the Presidium, after all, the type of 'bar fights' that occurred were more of the verbal nature, a physical altercation would be _quite_ the change of pace. 

Shepard was far too gone to notice the change in the air, his hand braced, pulling him into an upright position. Even those that were not familiar with batarian expressions could see the ire starting to alight over the yellow skin. 

"Hey-" Shepard was waving at the bartender as if to get his attention, fully unaware he already had it, "s'need an eggnog fer my new...new friend here," he turned almost leaning into the man, his focus blearily zoned in on him, "wahsure name?" 

_That_ seemed to be the straw to break the camels back, the batarian rising in a flourish, arm throwing off Shepard's still tight grasp as the room took a collective breath. 

The ensuing fight, however, was cut off with a booming voice calling out: "Shepard!" and everything went still again as the man in question turned. 

"Jimmy!" He took two steps toward the larger man, a waiver present, but the inebriation seemed somewhat hidden behind a firm grasp and handshake. The batarian looked between the two humans before slinking back to his seat, or a new seat, a few spaces down. 

James Vega clapped his hand on the back of the former commander, guiding him back to sit, taking up the empty space provided by the alien. "Looking a little rough around the edges, sir." The words were accompanied by a wide grin, a sparkle in his eyes. Shepard snorted, hand swiping to pick up his drink, only to glower at the empty glass. 

"Not rough enough," he gestured to the turian for another, glad enough for an actual drinking partner. 

* * *

The Presidium no more had a 'day' or 'night' than any other space ship, but it still had active working shifts that emulated them. It was getting late enough that the bar was seeing more and more straggle away, the barkeep shooting an ever more persistent stink-eye at the two humans. 

Whatever sobriety James' appearance had given Shepard was long gone, nearly wavering on his stool once more, the still present batarian making shifting eyes at him, as if fearful he was going to once again be accosted. Luckily James was much more sober, hauling up the older man, chuckling low as Shepard fell face first against his chest. 

"You smell good Jimmy," the words were slurred, muffled against the broad chest that reverberated with renewed laughter. The vibrations made his stomach flop, turning his cheek against the hard muscle, happy to keep himself plastered exactly where it was, at least until James’ hand wrapped around his shoulders, turning him to lean against his side, forcing him to walk. 

"Come on Loco, let's get you home to your Spectre, eh?" The snort James was met with was curious, though he didn't question it, not yet, busy with getting an arm under Shepard's body, supporting the man as he fought to remain upright. 

They were half way to the rapid transit shuttle when Shepard shot up straight, tugged to be released and James did so (though cautiously ready to grab him if he inevitably fell). "Lets go to the Wards, Chora's Den. Haven't been to Chora's Den for _years_." 

James stared at him before shaking his head. "Oh Loco." The voice was somewhere between amused and condescending and Shepard's scowl showed he was still coherent enough to know when he was being made fun of; he tried to push further away, only to be pulled back in as he swayed on his feet, nearly tilting over. 

"I'm not done getting drunk Vega." The words were petulant, muttered out as if fully aware he'd already lost. 

"Well, Chora's Den's been closed for years my _pendejo_ , and," a smirk crossed the scarred face, "you are blato, _amigo_. I'm cutting you off." 

For a long moment James was sure he was about to receive a very drunk, but very furious, rant, only to be met with a solemn nod of his head and Shepard leaning toward him, though no longer accepting any help to walk. 

They finished the trek to the transit, Shepard's head falling back against the seat. James was content in the silence, hands resting on his own thighs, fingers drumming absently on the stiff material of his BDU's, gaze focused on the rapidly moving scenery. 

"He's on Earth." 

James' head turned to look at the still form, Shepard's neck still tilted, head still reclining. 

"Eh?"

"Had a fight. He's on Earth for Christmas."

That seemed uncharacteristic of the biotic, James always thought the Major a bit soft, at least in terms of his relationship with Shepard (he'd seen him in action on the battlefield too many times to think so anywhere else), to find out he'd jumped ship to Earth seemed...atypical. Even if there had been a fight. 

Shepard's head swung up, rolling awkwardly to look at James. "Probably- _definitely_ my fault." 

James knew better than to comment; regardless, whatever he said would be wrong, the retired Commander was wasted enough he'd have argued either way. Instead, he gave a sound of encouragement, let the other man get out whatever it was he wanted to say...or pass out...as that was what he promptly did. 

* * *

Shepard could smell food. Bacon. He groaned and rolled over, arm reaching out to pull one of the opposite pillows into his body, burying his face into the down. His head gave a dull thud as his stomach gurgled in protest. Shepard let out another groan before rolling onto his back, dragging the pillow with him, blocking out the harsh light of the uncovered window. Kaidan was always masochistic when it came to his hangovers, prodding Shepard awake with harsh motions. Damn biotics and their metabolism.

Sleep was starting to settle back in, fretful and achy, but it was better than remaining conscious even if he knew he needed to go and drink some water, force down a few bites of whatever Kaidan was making, because no matter how his stomach turned at the smell he knew if he choked down a few fork fulls he’d start to feel better. Except sleep sounded much better. 

Nuzzling into the plush pillow, Shepard took in a deep breath and gave a small grin. The smell of Kaidan's ridiculous hair gel (and Kaidan himself) sent a pleasant warmth through his churning gut. Still holding the pillow to his face he called out an elongated " _K_ ", muffled by the obstruction. There was an unfamiliar chuckle that greeted him, closer than he'd expected, and despite the hangover Shepard moved quickly to sit up hand groping for the firearm Kaidan kept under the mound of pillows he seemed to prefer to sleep with. The sight of the large soldier had him immediately relaxing, head pounding even more with the loss of adrenaline as he flopped back on the bed. 

"James." 

"Morning, Commander." The tone was somewhere between amused and ribbing, with just enough sympathy thrown in so that Shepard didn't want to shoot him still (although he still had an urge to throw a pillow at him, oh how the mighty had fallen). "Made eggs," was the next statement, tone still firmly in place and Shepard only grunted in response, the previous night and it's reasoning coming back full force. 

Shepard grunted again at the thought to stave off the petulance he wanted to spew, slowly sitting up, hand lifting to rub at his face. 

"Let's pretend last night never occurred LC." His voice was hoarse and he reached out for a cup of coffee, jolted for a moment when it didn't come. Kaidan was always a tease when it came to morning after's, but he was also proficient in foreseeing Shepard's needs, coffee always in hand; he couldn't expect James to do the same. Just another reminder of how he'd fucked up. 

James was instead, staring at him, a thoughtful look on his face, one Shepard was not enjoying, bringing a scowl to his own. "Lieutenant Commander." The rank was spoken hard, sleep still clinging to its edges and he saw James stiffen slightly before a grin pulled at his cheeks. 

"General." 

John scowled. He much preferred 'Commander' regardless of the promotion before he'd officially retired, and James Vega knew it. The laugh he was met with was the soldier's clear knowledge of that fact. 

"Where are the damn eggs." 

Another laugh and James was offering his hand to help him up, at first met with another scowl pulling at his face before Shepard took the offering, letting his legs swing over the edge, standing up with a roll in his gut and a throbbing between his temples. Pinching at his eyes, Shepard stretched out his spine, the familiar pop making him groan. "Tell me there's coffee." 

"What can pass for it, at least." 

The statement made him chuckle, nodding as he stepped around the larger man. "Old soldiers Vega, old soldiers." There was only so many years that could go by drinking the equivalent of jet fuel masquerading as coffee before you simply got used to the taste, almost preferred it; Shepard and Kaidan had reached that point years ago. 

It was James' turn to snort, a head shake in John's peripherals; he let out another gravelly chuckle before skipping the bottom step of the stairs, pleasantly assaulted with the smell of coffee and bacon, his stomach finally starting to agree with the offered breakfast. 

It had been more than a few years since he'd had Vega cook for him. After the war Shepard was eating most of his meals through a straw, and then James had been off to ICT. Barring a yearly visit or two with the whole of the old crew since he and Kaidan had moved to the nearly-rebuilt Citadel, they simply did not see each other as often. In fact...as he ate another bite of his perfectly-balanced greasy eggs Shepard was shooting the younger man a suspicious look. 

"What are you doing?" The tone was one-edged hard of accusatory and definitely suspect. 

For the other N7's part, his face remained coolly neutral. "Eh?" 

Shepard's eyes squinted, swallowing his next bite before continuing. "Unannounced visit, stayed the night, made me..." he gestured at the plate. 

"Had to make a stop, figured I'd come and stop by."

Shepard didn't believe it. "Uh huh.."

James' hands rose in defensive positions, laughter filling the space. "Honest Loco. _SSV London_ docked yesterday morning, I can call up the Captain if you don't--"

Shepard waved his hand. "Fine. Although half tempted to take you up on that offer." There was a pause as John took another bite of his eggs, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How is the _London_ , enjoying yourself XO?" 

The look that crossed James' face was strange, John wasn't sure he'd ever seen his once-protege quite twist his brows like that before, reminded him of Kaidan back...

"Who is she LC?" 

The sputter of coffee had Shepard chuckling, easily handing over a napkin, watching patiently as the other man pointedly cleaned up his mess, refusing to look at him. 

"Don't know whatcha mean Shepard." 

"Uh _huh_." 

Another pause and Shepard leaned back in his chair, sipping at his coffee continuing to wait patiently. Sure enough, it paid off. 

"Serve with her on the _London_ , another N7, hell of a soldier." 

"N7's typically are." The comment was a compliment, one he was glad to see was picked up on, James' neck flushing, head tilted slightly down. 

"She, uh, she's tough, doesn't let anyone push her around. When we landed on Tuchanka she headbutted one of Wrex's guard. Had him laughing, said she had a quad." There was an affection blooming over the Lieutenant Commander's face that made John smirk, even as he realized what James was implying. 

"Who's the Captain again?" The flush was back, confirming his suspicions. The laugh that filled the room got him a punch in the arm, only exacerbating it. "Brass will have my hide, you know. They blame me for all the 'bad habits' I, apparently, instilled." 

"What did they expect Loco? And, anyway, you're retired. What're they gonna do about it?" 

Shepard took another sip of his coffee, grinning. "Just make sure you have at least three aliens on your crew when you get your own ship, that will really set them on edge." 

"Nah, I'll let your boy handle that; Spectre privileges, eh _ése_?" And at first, Shepard gave a chuckle in agreeance, an arm crossing over his chest, but the brooding expression returned, James' comment only sharply reminding him of the empty seat at the table. 

"Shit...ah, sorry. I'm sure--"

Shepard waved off the apology, it wasn't James' job to do so, to make him feel better. His stomach churned again, although less to do with the alcohol the night before. He stood to go rinse out his cup and place the empty plate in the sink. "So, headbutting Krogans...what else should I know about this new captain of yours?" Best to just change the subject instead. James seemed much more comfortable with that, leaning back in his own seat, arms crossing as he balanced precariously on the back legs, Shepard's eyes following the rocking. 

"Name’s Kiliane Shepherd." 

"Shit, I'm being replaced aren't I?" 

"Well, she _is_ a better dancer." 

John snorted which quickly turned into a laugh. "Considering..." 

James own laugh was a bit more light, "shouldn't have retired _jefe_. Love to see you two dance it out, she's got a killer left." 

"Personal experience?" 

"You know it." 

Shepard laughed. "I'll have to stop by next time you dock, come meet this other Shepherd." 

"The _London_ would be honored to have you, General, sir." 

"Don't." Suddenly John felt tired, turning to rest his aching hip against the counter. "Just a man now Jimmy, you shouldn't call me that." 

There was an almost soft smile as James stood, "not supposed to salute you either, sir," snapping exactly that, and John--for a moment--smiled, head dropping downward, shaking his head. 

"Insubordinate fuck." The words were light and the two men laughed, nostalgia a powerful salve.

"Not the last Shepard to tell me that." 

"Oh good, I like her already." 

There was silence then, the two men remaining standing, lost in their own thoughts before James was picking up his own plate, moving to take it to the sink. He rinsed out his own cup, half the thick dark liquid swirling down the drain, "so, why were you hassling that new batarian ambassador?" 

For a moment Shepard stared and then, eyes going wide, laughed, short and clipped. "I did that, didn't I." It was a statement, not a question.

"Aye, thought he was going to shoot you there for a minute, cause a galactic incident." 

"Wouldn't be the first." 

A snort was his answer. "You and batarians."

"Classic old school vid antagonists." 

"What does that make you, classic protagonist?" 

Shepard laughed, "something like that." 

Letting out a breath, Shepard shook his head, the solemn note in the air returning. "He wanted to go to Earth for the holiday. I...said no." James' answer was silence. "Wanted an answer for why not, couldn't give him one so, he left." More silence. Shepard moved further from the kitchen, motioned to sit back in his seat and instead stood awkwardly by the chair instead. He knew what question was going to come out of Vega's mouth. 

"So, why didn't you want to go." _Bingo._

He shrugged. There was silence again before he caught Vega's own shoulders lift in parallel action. "Don't have to tell me, Loco. Just seems..."

"I'm aware Vega." 

His hands lifted in defense, backing off with the snapping tone of his voice. "Not my business. Sorry, sir." 

Shepard groaned, a hand scrubbing over his face, the butt of his palms digging into his eyes. "I fucked up. Biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups, and I punched a quarian admiral in the stomach." 

"I know, I was there." 

Shepard snorted and went silent, the room thick with it until James' curiosity won out.

"So...you fucked up?" 

And when Shepard turned to walk out of the room, James quickly beginning to panic as his once-commanding officer disappeared from view. He stood stock-still in the kitchen unsure how to handle the situation, clear he'd just caused his own massive fuck-up, prying too far into his senior officers' lives. His heavy steps moved him to stand in the hallway, peering up the stairs and then glancing at the front door, wondering if he should just leave. When he'd made dock the night before his plan had been to use the much needed short shore-leave to catch up with the first two human spectres and maybe convince Kiliane to head out to one of those new restaurants on the Strip, have a half-assed Christmas; not get involved in a domestic and then piss off his mentor. But James Vega was nothing if proficient at diving headfirst into impossible situations. 

He was about to make his way out the front door when Shepard appeared on the stairs, half way down them, and damn the man for somehow being silent on his feet even being [probably] half metal. 

"Look, Shepard, I didn't mean to--" 

He didn't get any further as a small box was shoved into his hands and James looked down at it, staring, for a long time. Eventually he wet his lips and cleared his throat. "This what I--" he opened it and, yes, yes it was. "Shit. Loco..." 

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise that I literally chased the man off the station." He sounded annoyed at himself, angry. James handed him back the ring, shaking his head. 

"So get on a damn shuttle and go meet him." The look he got for a moment, he was pretty sure he was going to join the list of people the Savior of the Galaxy _had_ punched, before there was a shake of his head and a half grin. 

"Sometimes you make too much damn sense Jimmy." 

* * *

To say his nerves were on edge would have been an understatement, still the view was actually rather nice. They hadn't been back to Vancouver for nearly a year and the BC Interior for over two; he'd understood Kaidan wanting to return home, see Earth, see his mother. He was also fully aware he was a stubborn asshole. His own want to propose in their apartment, their space, had overridden the simple fact of proposing. Jimmy had been right, the place didn't matter so long as they were together (and wasn’t that cheesy as hell). Apparently he just needed to find _some sort_ of conflict to fill his days, although he'd need to keep in mind doing so with Kaidan usually just ended in disaster. The second human Spectre was more stubborn than he was. 

As the cabin came into view, Shepard had to admit, of the places to propose, the Alenko Orchard was fairly romantic; and he'd almost bit the bullet on that one. Maybe the biotic would forgive him. If he said yes. 

There was a light dusting of snow coming down, adding to the just thick enough powder on the ground. The house itself was alight with white twinkling lights that John could easily imagine Kaidan hanging up under the watchful eye of Leigh Alenko. He should have been there, working on opposite sides till they met in the middle. Instead, he'd been stubborn and petulant, wallowing in his own self-pity until Vega had pulled his head out of his ass; he owed that man a beer--or three. 

Stepping from the skycar, John pulled his jacket tighter around himself, swiping the credit chit to pay his driver, before turning to stare up at the home in front of him. He'd been an orphan, on the streets before he had any real memory; having a home had been a foreign concept--some days it still was, a place to rest, a family to go back too; he wanted to solidify that if he could. 

His hands opened and closed, stretching out his barely-used gloves before he knocked on the door. He'd faced reapers on foot, thresher maws with only a pistol in hand, knocking on the door of his possible future mother-in-law should not have been so difficult. 

The short dark-haired woman seemed confused when the door propped open. She stared, silent, before swinging it wide. "John." His name was nearly a question. In the background he could see the twinkling lights of a tree and smell a barest hint of pine. 

"Mrs. Alenko..." he felt sheepish and cold, his small shiver must have tipped her off as she gestured for him to come inside. He wanted to ask for Kaidan, call out to him, but felt awkward, snow melting on his shoulders, boots leaving wet spots on the floor. 

"Kaidan said you couldn't make it." There was no accusation in her voice, just quiet curiosity. John shuffled between his feet. 

"Yeah, I," he paused unsure of what to say. "I, things were in a bad way, but I needed to be here." He felt ridiculous saying it, but it was the truth and the smile he was greeted with was infectious. It quickly pulled hard to port, however, dropping into something much more serious; John felt his heart skip a beat. 

"He's not here." And just like that the color drained from his face, like his blood had vanguard charged right from his veins. He thought he managed to squeak out a 'what', though he wasn't sure. 

Leigh Alenko looked apologetic, a hand moving to rest on his arm, squeezing it softly. "He said almost the same thing before heading back to the base, planning on returning to the Citadel." 

Silence hung as the words settled between them. It took a moment before he let out a bark of a laugh, "when did he leave?" 

"Last night." The affectionate smile was growing across the older woman's face again as she moved to take his coat; relinquishing it to her, he ran a hand over the short cropped hair. It was already Christmas Eve, likely they'd passed each other mid-flight. Turning right back around was possible...but he realized he should contact Kaidan first, make sure they didn't continue the pattern. 

* * *

Kaidan was nearly glaring at the forlorn tree. The apartment not only empty, but silent. The _Normandy_ was docked and every attempt to reach Shepard had failed since he'd landed. He'd been furious at John for days until he realized, he could be furious at his lover for being so stubborn and ruin everyone's holiday, _or_ , he could stop being hypocritical and drag the man along. Because while he really did appreciate the Citadel's attempts at holiday cheer, it never was quite the same. For one, they were sharing the space with at least three other traditions that many shops couldn't quite keep straight, and two...snow. He was Canadian and nothing quite said Christmas like a yard full of the white powder. 

It had been too long since he'd gotten to enjoy an old fashion snow storm and he'd been looking forward to it; but sitting in the bay window, watching it flurry without John there...it didn't seem right without him, and as the cold apartment echoed around him, it looked like he was _still_ going to be spending it without him. 

Reaching out to tap at one of the hanging bulbs, watching it swing absently, he was fully ready to sink into his self-pity when his omni-tool went off. Heavy brows folding, it was a message from Shepard. 

' _Pick up Alenko_ ', it flashed, his head spun 'round and, sure enough, a call was coming in, the comm silenced probably when John left the flat. 

Petulance almost won out, but it _was_ Christmas Eve and he had just made two trips to see the damn man, ignoring him really would have been nothing short of childishness. And as his face popped up on the screen he had to admit, he _did_ miss him. 

....And his mother's bedroom? 

"John? Where are--" suddenly he was laughing, Shepard's disappearance making full sense. The bright blue eyes on the other side of the screen crinkled at their edges. 

"Your mother told me you left, seems we- uh, had the same idea." 

"Apparently." Affection was warming his chest. "We're both idiots." 

John's laugh was welcome, even light years away. "Yeah..." there was a pause, Shepard simply looking at him; Kaidan tilted a brow, receiving another hoarse chuckle. "You should bring my ship back here so we can celebrate proper." 

" _Your_ ship?" 

"Ask EDI, there are still a few loyal to a retired commander." 

"General. And that's bullshit John, half the galaxy still has shrines in your honor." Shepard flinched and Kaidan immediately felt guilty. Part of the reason they were even on the Citadel was to get away from his fame. Sure, he was the most recognizable human in the galaxy, but aliens weren't that great at distinguishing and if he wasn't in uniform it was even easier to blend in. "John..."

"Hey, no. If you gave the crew leave I think the _London_ should still be docked. Vega could be swayed to make a drop. Especially if you promise to talk him up to the Captain." And the way his lover's lips pulled at the corner, Kaidan knew _exactly_ what he was implying. 

"You're shitting me." Kaidan shook his head, couldn't stop the throaty laugh, hand brushing at the empty air, waving off his own disbelief. "I mean, shouldn't be surprised, she's practically you in female form." 

A scoff met him. "You know Captain Shepherd?" Then another scoff, bordering on amused indignation, "I _am_ being replaced! That's it, one of us is changing our name!" 

The thought sent a thrill down his spine. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Kaidan stepped closer to the screen. "John--" the look he was shot with made him hot under the collar, nerves dancing just beneath the skin. 

"Kaidan, before..." there was a taut look over the other man's face, the brilliant eyes not quite meeting his, "I wanted, need to, apologize, for being an idiot. I was stubborn because, sometimes, despite everything, I have expectations of things working out, going to plan. I should be well practiced at thing going fubar, and yet...here I am." A hand gestured at his own chest and Kaidan couldn't help the affectionate smile. Maker, he loved the man and all his faults; and apparently his face was making that pretty clear, as Shepard's own expression slipped into something that made the distance between them seem non-existent. "I meant to do this in person, but, if you're not completely tired of this old stubborn soldier, would you..." there was movement below where the screen cut off and then suddenly an open box, the twinkling lights from the small tree he knew his mother had in her room, bouncing off the metal band. "Would you marry me?" 

There was a long silence. He saw Shepard shift awkwardly the longer it went on. Then, suddenly, laughter. 

Kaidan was nearly bent over with it, tears beading at the corner of his eyes and he knew it wasn't fair, could see the anxiousness blooming over the other man's face, but he couldn't seem to stop, his hand reaching out to brace himself on the back of a chair. His sides were aching, the sound becoming stilted as he ran out of air to make it.

"Kaidan." The voice was softer than he'd ever heard, hesitant, enough of a jolt to help him get a hold of himself. A hand raising to wipe, pinch at his eyes, pulling himself together, dipping a hand into the pocket of his sweater. 

"John," his eyes blinked once, trying to clear the moisture from his vision, amusement still clinging to the edges, but love bursting from his face. "Only if you'll do me the same honor." In his own hand another band was held out and for a half moment there was silence before the laughter was returned, Shepard covering his face fully with his own hand. Kaidan could see his shoulders shaking. 

"We _are_ idiots," was muffled from beneath the palm and Kaidan couldn't fight the grin on his face. 

"Always, John. Always."


End file.
